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LOYEST    THOU    ME? 


CoNsiDr.a  the  Inquirer.  He  is  the  Lord  Je»us  Christ.  He  is 
now  on  the  eternal  throne.  Angels  and  archangels  veil  their 
faces  before  him,  and  c-ist  their  crowns  at  Lis  feet.  The  sweetest 
incense  which  sanctified  minds  can  offer  roe«  up  before  hhiu  Tho 
swiftest  wings  are  spread  to  execute  his  pleasure.  All  power  is  his. 

AH  destiny  hangs  upon  hi*  will.  But  his  relation  to  you--- 
how  peculiar  and  affecting  !  lie  became  poor  for  you.  He  bore 
contempt  fbr^ynu — suffered  agonizing  pains  of  body  and  mind 
foryou — died  for  you — rose  again  for  you — lives  to  intei 
for  you  ;  and  so  is  your  only  deliverer  from  that  scene  of  ever- 
lasting suffering  which  is  the  penalty  of  the  law  you  have  brok- 
en. His  friendship  for  you  has  been  written  in  his  blood,  and 
sea'ed  by  hfs  death  ;  and  as  yovir  friend  "above  all  others,"  he 
now  asks  you  this  question,  "Lovest  thou  me!"  Reader,  this 
is  a  persona!  appeal     V'hat  is  your  reply  ? 

"I  have  been  trained  fro  n  my  youth  to  respect   the  Saviour 

I  believe  the  whole  Scripture  revelation  concerning  him.  I 
have  wept  over  the.  touching  incidents  of  his  life,  and  the  affect- 
ing tragedy  of  his  death." 

But  mark  the  question  :  "Latest  thou  me?*" 

""My  moral  character  is  beyond  reproach.  T  violate  none  of 
ley  fellow-creatures1  rights.  I  can  fearlessly  say  I  am  just, 
kind,  true,  temperate,  i  challenge  investigation  of  my 
character.'" 

Yet  consider  well  the  inquiry  :  u  Lrvext  thou  me  ?n 

"1  have  had  serious  and  anxious  thoughts  concerning  cternai 
tilings.  I  have  heard  conscience  and  trembled.  Sermons  hare 
troubled  me.  Providences  have  alarmed  uie.  Few  have  had 
more  solemn  reflections  than  myself.1  * 

Still,  **/Lwest  thou  me?" 

14  I  have  wept  as  a  sense  of  guilt  and  danger  has  come  trrer 
my  soul.  Freely  have  my  tear*--  flowed  as  I  have  reviewed  lift*, 
and 'thought  of  death  and  eternity." 

But  ponder  well  the  question    ''  Lotent  U*oo  bk  '■" 


L0VE6T  1I10U   MK 


"!  have  prayed  often.  Pressing  appeals  of  divine  truth, 
affecting  providences,  the  presence  of  danger,  and  the  warnings 
of  conscience  have  u>  ged  prayer,  and  1  have  not  refuted." 

But  yet,  "Ltipest  thou  me?" 

"  I  have  rnf.de    earnest  and  firm    pm  poses,  of  a  leTigfobs  hm. 

So  dangerous  has  appeared  my  coins*  of  sin,  ro  reasonable 
the  path  of  piety,  so  affecting  the  spectacle  of  otiiers  entering 
that  path,  that  I,  too,  have  solemn]}-  resolved." 

Nevertheless,  "Loitst  \ho\\  mev" 

"I  have  been  an  nrfailing  supjoYter  cf  religious  institutions, 
an  attendant  on  the  house  of  God,  a  friend  of  the  Christain 
ministry  and  the  holy  Sabbath,  and  have  not  refused  my  aid  in 
sending  gospel  privileges  to  my  countiymen  and  the  Heathen." 

But  the  question  is,  ^Lnrsst  thou  me?" 

"Jama  member  of  the  Christain  church,  having  subscribed 
with  mine  own  hand  unto  the  Lord.  I  honor  tin*  ordinances, 
of  his  house.  No  impeachment  has  ever  been  made,  of  my 
Cf'Hstian  character,  and  in  pleasing  anticipation-I  hope  for  efer* 
kstinj  life." 

After  all,  "priest  thou  me  f 

Weigh  well  the  import  of  this  question.  Do  you  not  see  its 
aim  ?  It  admits  any  one,  and  avevy  one  of  the  things  you  have 
mentioned,  yet  presses  on  in  pursuit  ofstill  another  object.  Xt 
denies  nothing  that  is  valuable  in  all  your  claim*,  butitreaches 
beyond  them  all.  See  you  not  that  it  touches  not  one  merely 
C»  uward  circumstance  of  your  life,  net  one  of  the  merely  natural 
properties  of  you*  mind.  It  is  not  an'inquiry  about  the  vigor 
of  your  intellect,  the  correctness  of  your  social  feelings,  or  the 
strength  of  your  sympathies.  Your  lips  may  have  honored 
Christ,  and  perhaps  your  pen.  Gross  reproach  ma}'  not  have 
stained  your  Christian  profession.  But  the  inquiry  is  deeper 
than  all  this.  The  heart,  the  heart ;  how  do  you  in  heart  treat 
Jesus  Christ '?  The  inostspltnded  external  virtues,  may  gild  your 
character  ;  l.ut  0,  the  gloom,  the  daikness,  the  moral  death,  if 
you  lore  not  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ. ! 

The  TKNDEKNr:sy.  of  the  appeal .  look  at  tfutt.  tt  was  no  harsh 
and  unfeeling  rebuke  as  it  met  the  fallen  Peter's  eais:  it  Was 
searching  and  solemn,  so  that  tears  of  gi  ief  were  started  by  it ; 
but  more  tender  language  could  not  have  fallen  fi  om  the  ftps 
fff  infinite  love.  And  it  brings  no  fiar.-n  aecusat-i'on  against 
you  ;  it  mentions  nothing    wfong    that    you    have  ever    gone* 


LOTKST   TliOU    MS  I  3 

The  foulest  sins  may  have  stained  your  life,  so  that  your  Re- 
deetner  might  have  sent  hi- 1  ubuke  on  the  wir.fr  of  the  lightning, 
or  in  the  bursting  thunder's  voice.  But  AO.  Here  i*  rebuke: 
bit  not  so  uttered.  You  cannot  conceive  in  "hat  iorm  you 
o  m'd  be  reproved  for  sin,  more  tei  tier  and  melting  to  the  soui 
iian  this. 

Cnn  you  say  it  is  an  n? reasonable  appeal?  Were  it  irrel- 
evant to  jour  character,  or  insignificant  hi  consequence,  it 
night  be  so.  But  it  is  relevant  to  yonr  ease,  ft  is  so,  if  you 
can  answer  it  affirmatively,  lor  it  is  suited  to  turn  your  thoughts 
towards  the  sweetest  theme  upon  which  they   can    ever  dwell, 

But  if  you  must  give  a  negative  reply,  then  surely  the 
question  is  one  of  fearful  interest  to  you.  That  denial  throws 
light  upon  your  character,  and  character  determines  the  great 
question  of  eternal  destiny. 

Consider,  therefore,  the  MtPORTANCE  of  the  point  the  question 
would  lend  you  to  asee>  tain.  It  would  put  you  in  possession  of  a 
fact  of  more  consequence  to  you  than  any  other  in  the  universe. 

That  fact  is  your  own  moral  standing  in  the  sight  of  your 
Saviour  and  Judge.  Tt  respects  .the  great  point,  whether  there 
is  between  you  and  him  (bat  harmony  of  feeling  and  character 
which  will  qualify  you  for  the  summons  to  meet  him  ;  .in  event 
the  next  hour  you  may  rc.di/e.  A  n  honest  answer  to  this  question 
obtained  by  solemn  inquiry  m  the  light  of  divine  truth,  may  be 
of  nn>re  importance  to  you  than  power  to  fathom  all  the  depths 
of  human  knowledge. 

And  does  not  the  BESsrot-EKCE  of  the  great  Inquirer  beam 
uponyouinthe  question  now  urged  ?  He  trims  his  sail  iu 
peril,  that  does  it,  fearless  and  r.v-h,  amid  the  shoals  and  break- 
ers of  »n  unknow  coast  And  is  not  his  a  voice  of  kindness,, 
who,  knowing  the  incautious  mariner's  exposure,  urges  a 
keener  scrutiny  of  surrounding  dan  per?  You,  reader,  are  on 
the  dark  and  perilous  sea  of  life.  Here  is  the  heavenly  Pilot's 
?oice.  It  urges  your  scrutiny  of  that  great  source  of  all  dangers,, 
your  desperately  deceitful  heart.  It  bids  you  examine  it,  Unit 
you  may  thus  know  your  peril  or  your  satiety.  It  is  therefore 
a  voice  of  mercy,  and  is  now  uttered  in  your  ears  only  that  it 
may  guide  you  to  the  haven  of  eternal  r-st. 

Perhaps  the  Inquirer  now  addresses  one  who  can,  in  humble 
sincerity,  exclaim,  "Lord,    thou    knowest    that    1  love  thee. 7 

Let,  then,  your  daily  sweel  communion    with    the   Saviour 


4  LOVEST   TlIOS    ME  : 

answer  it  thus  ;  and  }*our  watchful  and  persevering  effort  to  V>e 
more  entirely  conformed  to  his  image  ;  and  yoar  affectionate 
obedience  to  all  his  holy  will ;  and  your  labor  to  life's  end,  that 
nil  within  your  influence  may  be  enabled  to  give  the  same 
answer. 

But  you,  perhaps,  mnnot  give  an  affirmation.  The  aversion, 
of  your  heart,  the  sinfulness  of  your  life,  the  entire  consecration 
of  your  affections  to  other  objects,  the  neglect  of  Christ  in  all 
the  plans  of  life — all  this  shows  you  can  give  no  other  than  a 
negative  reply.  And  solemnly  consider  how  much  such  a  reply 
means.  u  I  do  not  love  infinite  moral  excellence.  1  do  not 
love  one  whom  all  the  good  in  the  universe    delight    to  honor. 

I  do  not  love  one  who  submitted  to  the  deepest  humiliation 
possible  to  any  being,  on  my  personal  account.  I  do  not  love 
one  who  endured  the  most  exquisite  bodily  and  mental  suf- 
ferings to  save  me  from  the  eternal  endurance  of  both,  if  I 
will  trust  in  him.  I  do  not  love  one,  who,  though  he  has  the 
power  and  right  .of  inflicting  instant  perdition,  yet,  instead  of  it, 
freely  offers  me  pardon  and  eternal  life,  and  that  on  the  easiest 
terms,  consistent  with  the  safety  of  the  divine  government  and 
my  own  best  happiness.  1  do  net  love  the  Being  who  has 
provided  happiness  for  mankind,  the  most  sweet  and  satisfying 
the  rational  mind  can  dest  e,  and  in  degree  meeting,  to  the  full, 
all  the  ever  enlarging  capacities  of  an  immortal  soul.  J  do  not 
love  one,  who,  though  I  have  treated  all  this  kindness  of  his 
with  the  most  base  and  hard-hearted  ingratitude,  has  not  for  a 
single  hour  of  life  suffered  his  faithfuless  to  fail,  and  who,  I 
doubt  not,  is  rs  ready  as  ever,  even  after  ten  thousand  provoca- 
tions, to  fulfil  his  promise  of  mercy  to  me,  if  a    true    penitent. 

But  notwithstanding  all,  I  Jove  him  not." 

I  unpenitent  reader,  look  on  this  picture,  true  to  the  life,  res- 
pecting your  own  case.  Such  treatment  of  such  a  friend,  how 
long  shall  it  continue?  Shall  it  not  now  cease  a*  you  finish 
this  tract?     He  is  near  yon,  witnessing  trie  result  of  this  appeal. 

Let  him  now  witness  the  broken  heart,  the  soul's  deep 
abhorrence  of  past  guilt — its  grateful  joy  in  all  the  riches  of 
big  mercy — its  entire,  cordial  consecration  tohim.  And  let 
him  now  hear  from  lips  that  speak  the  deep  and  solemn  sin- 
cerity of  the  soul,"  Lord,  thou  knowe-^t  <\)\  things  ;  thou  knowest 
that  f  lov'k  tbec.4* 


Hollinger  Corp. 
PH  8.5 


